


The Last Crash of the Cloudslayer!

by agentz123



Series: Who is Donald Duck? [4]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Adventure, An Extremely Goofy Movie (References), Angst, Astronomy, Badass Della Duck, Badass Donald Duck, Bisexual Donald Duck, Boys Will Be Boys, Butchered Italian, Butchered Portuguese, Butchered Spanish, Dad! Donald, Dad! Scrooge, Della Duck Character Development to Be Seen, Depression, Disaster Birds, Donald Duck Needs a Hug, Duck cousins - Freeform, Everyday is Christmas :), Extended Family, Family, Fluff, Frank Be Wilding on Tumblr, Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Gyro Gearloose Character Development to Be Seen, HONORARY NIECE WEBBY, Identity, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Impulsive Della Duck, Impulsive Scrooge McDuck, Inspired by S1's "The Last Crash of the Sunchaser!", Kingdom Hearts (References), Loneliness, Luck vs Merit, Mickey Mouse (Shorts) (References), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PKNA - Paperinik New Adventures (References), Phooey Duck Lives, Pre Canon, Protective Donald Duck, References to Miscarriage/Neonatal Death, References to S2's "Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!", References to S2's "The Duck Knight Returns!", References to S2's "The Town Where Everyone Was Nice!", References to S2's "What Ever Happened to Della Duck?!", References to S2’s “The Most Dangerous Game...Night!”, Role Confusion, Safe For Work, Sensitive themes, Slight Canon Divegence, Slight Dorkules, Slight Hercules AU, Slight Magicstone, Slow To Update, Some Fabulous Five Fluff, The Dark Side of Gyro Gearloose (?), This Fic Gets a Tad Sexy, Three Cabs (References), Three Cabs Shenanigans, To Be Developed Later, Trigger Warnings Just to Be Safe, Twin Bond, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, We All Know Donald Duck Stays Cussing, We're Gonna Pretend Gravidity Equals Pregnancy, What Ever Happened to Hortense McDuck?!, What Ever Happened to Quackmore Duck?!, Yay for Using Flashbacks as Plot Devices, apologies in advance, fun cameos, grief and mourning, it's rewind time, scrooge mcduck needs a hug, team uncle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26042098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentz123/pseuds/agentz123
Summary: A peek at the sequence of events leading up to the triplets’ hatching.
Relationships: Della Duck & Duckworth, Della Duck & Grandma Duck, Della Duck & Gyro Gearloose, Della Duck & Huey Duck & Dewey Duck & Louie Duck, Della Duck & Scrooge McDuck, Donald Duck & Della Duck, Donald Duck & Della Duck & Fethry Duck & Gladstone Gander, Donald Duck & Della Duck & Max Goof, Donald Duck & Della Duck & Scrooge McDuck, Donald Duck & Goofy, Donald Duck & Gyro Gearloose, Donald Duck & Huey Duck & Dewey Duck & Louie Duck, Donald Duck & Jose Carioca & Panchito Pistoles, Donald Duck & Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck & Scrooge McDuck, Donald Duck & Storkules, Donald Duck & Uno | One (Disney: PKNA), Donald Duck & Webby Vanderquack, Donald Duck/Storkules, Gladstone Gander/Magica de Spell, Huey Duck & Dewey Duck & Louie Duck & Max Goof, Mickey Mouse/Minnie Mouse, Scrooge McDuck & Duckworth, Scrooge McDuck & Gyro Gearloose, Scrooge McDuck & Huey Duck & Dewey Duck & Louie Duck, Scrooge McDuck & Quackmore Duck & Grandma Duck & Hortense McDuck, Scrooge McDuck & Webby Vanderquack, Storkules & Selene & Zeus
Series: Who is Donald Duck? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890283
Comments: 36
Kudos: 119





	1. 1. Della's Announcement

Scrooge and Donald grumbled wearily as they carried chests of sapphire from their latest adventure down the cobbled roads of Duckburg. Della had skipped ahead to avoid helping, but couldn’t resist falling back to poke Donald in the side to explain why. 

“PST. Hey. Hey, Don. Guess what? I have to tell you something." She took pride in how fast she was able to make his feathers scarlet (four seconds — new record!). 

" _What?_ " he snarled, resisting the urge to slam his trunk over her head. This half-witted palooka had the audacity to not even help, and _then_ jump in front of him so that he was forced to slow down? _Why he oughta_...

She came even closer and whispered in his ear. His eyes widened, almost as much as her smile. “I’m going to be an uncle? I’m going to be an uncle. I’M GOING TO BE AN UNCLE!” He abandoned the treasure, dropping it on his feet, but was too distracted from picking her up and spinning her around to even notice the pain. He quickly remembered that she was in a delicate state and set her down gently. He started in a dash down the street, yelping joyously. He was so happy he was actually able to ignore the strange looks and cracks at his voice. 

Scrooge panted, having been spun around when Donald had shoved passed him. “Oi, what’s that clumsy clod doing now?”

“Oh, just cheering because he’s going to be an uncle,” Della said out of the corner of her mouth, wondering if Scrooge would catch it. He choked, unable to believe his ears. He set down his box gently and leaned forward on his cane in order to hear her better. “Wha-what did ye say, lass?”

“Donald’s going to be an uncle,” she repeated. “And I’m going to be a MOM!”

Scrooge scooped her up into his arms and laughed. 

Two crates of jewels remained untouched.


	2. 2. Gravity of Gravidity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! I promise I didn’t forget about this story — it’s actually like 80 (?) percent done. It’s just that this and chapter 3 were the hardest to organize. Hopefully after they’re both submitted the rest of the updates should flow smoothly. 
> 
> Let me hear some feedback in the comments!

“Are ye two excited for our next expedition? There is a fixed fortune I’ve got me eye on in Lima: the Precarious Plate of Peru.” 

Donald had been reading up on the artifact for years. It was a small slab of precious metal, about the size of his palm, but it had all of the properties of gold. Even the color! But it had unquestionably been declared as elemental silver. He really wasn’t one for treasure, but anyone would be excited to catch even a glimpse at the jewel. He went to elbow Della, but he noticed how she had turned green. Uncle Scrooge had been doing way too much spitting for her taste. She knew it was a side effect of alliterating with p’s, but why was she suddenly disgusted after all of these years? 

“Hey, sis...are you okay?” Donald muttered as Scrooge led them to his study, describing what steps they were to take once they got to the cave. There was something about treachery and instant death, but they weren’t really paying attention. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?” She instantaneously felt a flame of rage spark on her shoulder. “What, just because I’m having an off-day means there’s something wrong with me?”

“I didn’t say that!” he hissed, feeling a bit irritated himself. Why was she going off on him? For absolutely nothing! “I was just a bit worried, is all.”

“Worried for what? I’m a ducking adult, Donald!”

“I know that! You just looked like you were about to hurl! Relax, sheesh.”

“Relax? You want _me_ to relax! You relax, you—you—“

She dissolved into a puddle of tears. Uncle Scrooge finally took a pause. Donald’s insides froze with guilt. “Aw, Dels, I didn’t mean to make you cry...“

“Aye, it’s alright, lad. It’s just the hormones making her a tad touchy. Why dinnae ye go lie down for a bit lass, before we make our flight.”

* * *

A few hours later, Donald had peeked his head into his sister’s bedroom and noticed that she was missing. He wondered if she had gone outside, thinking the fresh air might clear her head. He was right; upon reaching the driveway that winded around the front garden, he noticed how Della was in the Cloudslayer, firing up all of the engines or cylinders or whatever. He climbed inside worriedly. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yep! Nothing can stop Della Duck!” She continued to determinedly flip switches and turn knobs. Donald was getting dizzy from just watching. 

“So...you’re sure you can handle this?”

“What, a quick trip to Peru? Of course I can! Right after I use the restroom. Excuse me.” 

He watched in horror as she unbuckled her seatbelt and just started to leave. “What are you doing?” 

“Um...going to the bathroom?” 

“You can’t leave all of that stuff on! With me still in there! What if the plane starts flying by itself, or explodes, or—” 

“ _Donald._ I need to use the bathroom. So either you’re gonna shut up and let me go, or come with me back into the house.” 

Donald fiddled with his jacket. She growled and left. Why couldn't he just understand that he was more than his luck? 

“Oi! Where’s Della? Is she feeling better? Or are ye flying us tae Lima?” Scrooge clopped over to the front of the plane and nudged Donald closer to the copilot’s controls with his cane. 

“Quit it! When are you going to get your own license, anyway?” 

“Why wouldae pay for lessons when I’ve got a perfectly proficient pilot present?” 

“You did pay for lessons. For her? Remember?” Donald pointed out, dodging the old duck’s spittle. Scrooge grumbled something about nosy children and forced Donald out of his seat. He bumped into Della as he slid in the cargo compartment, and Scrooge sighed in relief. Hopefully Glomgold hasn’t left, either...

“Everyone ready?”

“Ye—no…be right back.” 

“Della, if you’re—”

“Hold that thought, Don!” 

Scrooge shook his head and started mumbling in what Donald recognized as Scottish curses. He slumped down in his seat and tried not to focus on how the plane shuddered idly. 

Suddenly Della was buckling up in the pilot’s seat. “Alright, let’s go!” 

“Are ye sure?” Scrooge barked sarcastically. Della gave a sheepish grin as she turned off the engine and started making her way back into the house. Scrooge followed, hot on her heels, and Donald scrambled to catch up. “Donald,” he blurted sternly. “Can ye just sail us there?” 

Donald shrugged. “Of course I can. It’ll add a few more hours, but we’d get there by sundown.” 

Della stamped her foot. “Are you kidding! You can’t just go without me! I’m the pilot! I’m—I’m, well, I’m the Della!” 

“Lass, yer clearly not in the proper condition tae travel! Dinnae worry, though. There’ll be plenty of adventures in the future. Come on, Donald! Duckworth’s out for the week, and I’m certainly not paying some contentious cabbie tae get us tae the McDocks. The next bus should be here in a few minutes.” 

“Come on, Della,” Donald groaned, wrestling with himself. “This thing’s been missing for years, and now someone finally has a lead! _We_ finally have a lead!”

“Fine,” she spat. “Go. See if I care.” 

“Don’t be like that.” 

Della was already marching back up Killmotor Hill. Donald shook his head and jogged to meet up with their uncle. 

* * *

“So...how are ye feeling about...Della’s... _circumstances?_ ” 

Despite the questionable connotation, Donald beamed, his smile adding to the brightness of the flashlight. “I’m so excited!” 

Scrooge tapped the roof of the cave with his cane, trying to test its stability before he dared to ask, “so...yer not mad, at all?” he whispered. 

Donald prodded along in confusion. “Why would I be?”

“Well, she is out of the family way…” Did he use that correctly? Surprisingly that was one expression that happened to be before his time...

“Family wa— so? The thing we’ve got going on definitely isn’t normal.” His uncle was still quiet. “I mean...she’s an adult. We talked a while ago and she did mention that it was consensual. So what’s the problem?” Now he was getting upset. Was _the_ Scrooge McDuck embarrassed to have a relative who was having a baby out of wedlock! In this day and age! For shame! Before Donald could voice his opinion, Scrooge finally answered his question. 

“Well...I dinnae know. Some brothers do get riled up about that sort of thing.” He did recall how he and Quackmore had a tiny tussle when he found out Hortense was with the twins. 

“Yeah. Those guys are kinda weird to me. Look! There it is,” he lowered his voice in awe, as if afraid to disturb the idol with the sound of his voice. 

Scrooge leaned hard on his staff and hummed as Donald went ahead in order to brush the dirt off of the mysterious metal and uncovered the glimmer underneath. His thoughts were disturbed when he heard his nephew frown out in disappointment, “Aw. It’s chipped.” 

Scrooge shook off his confusion. “What? Yer kidding.”

* * *

Della furiously scribbled down her last note and threw the diary under the sofa before the door finished unlocking. She held her book over her eyes to avoid watching her stupid uncle and her stupid brother stroll in after their stupid adventure. 

“Woah, you’re actually reading?” She glared at Donald as he tilted his head to read the spine. “Seems like you picked up one about _astronomy_ by mistake.”

“You know I _hate_ astrology, Don.”

“You just hate when people call you two-faced.”

“The stereotypes! Don’t they get to you? WHY DOES EVERYBODY HATE GEMINIS.”

She noticed how their uncle did not place his hat and cane on the coat rack. Della threw down her book and bounded over to him. “Um, where are you going? You just got here!”

“To me bin. I have a meeting.”

“Let me go,” Della begged. “PLEASE. Life has never been so boring.”

“It will be, after ye sit through that walloping waste of time.” She gripped his lapel, her eyes watering.“ _Fine._ But Donald has to come. Just in case you need anything. Duckworth still isn't back, that lousy lounger...”

“Ughhh, I don’t need a babysitter, Uncle Scrooge! And you KNOW how Donald gets.”

“Hey!” Della turned to do the puppy eye act on Donald but he shook his head. “You’re going soft, Scrooge.”

“Shut it, ye bothersome boy. Now let’s go.” Scrooge pushed ahead in an attempt to hide the blush rising in his feathers, and Donald took the opportunity to yank on Della’s scarf. 

“Whaaaat.”

“I brought you something. Give me your hand.”

He placed a piece of the Plate into her palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stop gatekeeping women’s sex lives!!! 
> 
> See you in the next chapter! Thank you for your patience :)


	3. 3. Pancake Debate Exposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The separate works in my "Who is Donald Duck?" series are meant to be standalone, but I do make small references to some of them in this work. I'll let you know if any are present in a chapter just in case you're interested in reading and providing any feedback.
> 
> Here, the title and some of the plot are taken from my one-shot "Reaching New Heights."

_“He’ll kill me if he realized I ruined a precious artifact. I mean, it’ll be worth it, but I want to meet my nieces and nephews first.”_

Della figured the best place to hide the metal would be in her mouth. Why not? She was missing a tooth in the back due to a childhood mishap (apparently she wasn’t all that great at flying without an airplane), and it was the perfect size. 

She fiddled with it inconspicuously while Donald gave her sickened looks as the three of them took the elevator down to a newly renovated part of the Money Bin: an underwater lab. Della thought it was cool in theory, but she didn’t think she would be able to focus anywhere where there would be schools of fish glaring at her all day long. 

In the center of the lab stood an extremely frazzled chicken, who was struggling in his decision of where to place the heavy box of robot arms he was carrying. Della gave Donald a mischievous grin, and they ran up to the lanky bird and started circling him. 

“Who is this?”

“Who are you?”

The duck (or was it ducks? They looked so similar it could’ve just been a single one going at warp speed) made loops around him. Gyro clutched the box to his chest and tried to focus on a single point in the horizon, but he still felt like a slab of prey...

“Aye, leave Gearloose alone! He’s busy trying tae get settled in.”

The white vortex paused. Gyro deduced that either there were two of them, or six of them. “Huh?”

“He’s my new inventor.” 

“Woah, Uncle McMoneybags adding someone else to the payroll?”

“He really IS going soft.”

Scrooge stamped his staff against the floor to get them to quiet down. “Ach! I’m going tae me meeting now. _Dinnae_ burn the place down.” 

“How can we burn it down if we’re literally underwater?” 

“I’m not going to justify that with a response.” 

Gyro pushed down his nausea as he adjusted his specs. “Technically sir, that was a response.” 

Donald and Della elbowed each other and cackled as their uncle’s cheeks burned. “It’s not too early to fire ye, sonny boy.” 

Gyro scratched the back of his head and watched his employer re-enter the lift. Once Mister McDuck had disappeared, he whisked around to the pair (yes, he had finally made his conclusion) invading his space again. Donald squinted especially hard, feeling as if he had met this guy online or something. He couldn’t possibly be the freelancer he needed during his Paperinik days, could he? 

Nah. 

“Sooo. Whaddya do here, Gyro?” 

The inventor flinched. He managed to actually pronounce his name _correctly._ He hated pita bread! “How did you know my first name?” Two index fingers jabbed at his chest, which held his new worker name tag. Right…

“I’m Della. This is Donald, by the way. He asked what kind of stuff you have running in this death trap.” 

Gyro guided them over to his lab table, where a light bulb attached to four sticks of pipe cleaner mimicking limbs sat. “Um, well, over here I have a little helper.” 

“So, it’s like a portable lamp?” 

“Not exactly. I’m still working out the kinks…” He blushed and directed their attention to an extremely large coffee pot. “This one here is my Breakfast Butler. So far it only makes pancakes…” Donald reached forward and flipped the power switch. After a moment of whirring, the machine spat out a layer of lumpy batter. Della beamed. “YOU LIKE THEM THIN TOO?”

“Well, yeah! Who doesn’t?”

“This guy!” She hooked her arm in Gyro’s. “You’re my twin now. Forget that palooka D-?” Her voice trailed off in a fit of confusion. “What was his name again? Dunce? Dumbo?”

Donald shoved her. “Your ride to lunch?”

“Ugh, fine. I _guess_ we can be triplets. Let’s go, Gyro.”

The chicken looked around, despite being tugged towards the elevator anyway. “Me?”

“Uh, duh.” There was a small tug on Donald’s sleeve. Della leaned over and whispered, “Can you make pancakes for dinner?”

He rolled his eyes with a smile as they headed up to the car. 

And that was the beginning of a daily ritual.

* * *

That night Della had felt extremely exhausted, to the point where she didn’t want to get out of bed. She didn’t even have any interest in going on her evening flight over Duckburg! She just wanted to curl up into a puddle of darkness, but at the same time she was feeling kinda lonely, but was also ready to snap, and wanted a hug, but if someone laid a single feather on her she would—

Her brother burst into her room and all of her anger and sadness melted away. 

“Dellllllllaaaaaa,” he called in a singsong voice. “I made your favorite: crepes!” 

An outstretched wing held out a plate that was stacked with extremely thin pancakes; Don knew she liked them no thicker than a centimeter. And they were the perfect shade of golden, almost shining as brightly as the smile he was giving her. Warmth washed over her, and she set out to take a deep sniff, excitedly expecting deliciousness. 

She vomited all over her dinner and her brother. 

“Oh, _Donald,_ ” she panted. “I’m so sorry…” 

She waited for him to slam the plate of buttery bile at the wall, but he sighed good-heartedly. “Well, with three ducklings on the way, I suppose I better get used to that…” He pushed her back into bed after wiping her beak with one of the napkins that had survived the eruption. “Um. I guess you’ll be having crackers this evening?”

“Actually, I really, really, really want a PICKLE.”

“On it.” 

“You’re the best, Don.” She snuggled deeper into her blankets and felt a peck on her forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that Gyro was more like his DT87 character before the time set in the show :)


	4. 4. A Visit to Doctor Gearloose

“Your fork keeps missing your mouth, Gyro. Are your glasses broken?”

Before he could recognize that she was joking, she offered an aqua hair tie. “Here. My brother is a barber, by the way.” 

Donald nodded, inhaling his soup. “It’s true. I can start when we get back to the lab, if you want.”

Gyro quietly resumed eating. He has not had a haircut since beginning his internship with Doctor Akita, and that was years ago. He was not sure if this change was something he wanted; he was already extremely overwhelmed by Donald and Della. The twins had taken to Gyro quite quickly, which had never happened to him before. Usually whenever someone “befriended” him, they were looking for him to do their lab homework, or fetch them coffee. But both Donald and Della had finished school already, and there really wasn’t much they could take advantage of. Gyro was but a humble chicken, and they were the nephew and niece of the richest duck in the world. The chicken genuinely believed that they were... _friends._

He couldn’t bring himself to say it, though. Even though he was a man of science, he thought some mysterious force would come into play if he uttered the words out loud. 

He took a plunge. “Okay.”

* * *

“Why do I have to lay under this thing, again?”

“My Maternal Motor does a complete scan of the carrier and each of the offspring. It’s important that you stay particularly still so that it is able to get an accurate reading.”

“That thing’s not experimental, is it?”

“Should I upset the man with the scissors in my head?”

Donald raised a protective brow as Della guffawed at the sudden change in character. The machine beeped and alerted them that the process had to be restarted. 

“Aw, phooey.”

“That’s what you get. Now, Gyro...do you have...are these _blackbirds?_ Oh, Gyro. Honey...” 

“They’re from my Thinking Cap. What do you think?”

“I think all of your brainpower keeps them warm,” Donald chuckled, placing three chicks into his friend’s wings. “Hold those for me?” He glanced at Della after sizing up Gyro’s face with his comb. “So, what do you want them to be?”

“Healthy.”

Lots of McDucks have a bang, so Donald decided to keep the feathers in the front longer than the rest. Now they were really triplets. He scoffed. “No, really.”

“I mean it, Don. I. DON'T. CARE. As long as they are all healthy and happy…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He put the finishing touches on Gyro’s head and after returning the yellow cap, walked over to his sister. He held his ear to the part of the machine that sat above her abdomen. Gyro made note of the fact that Donald’s brains did not start leaking out of his facial orifices, and considered his invention a success. “Sounds like there’s a girl in there.” 

“What...what does that even mean? Besides, I’m carrying pretty low.”

Donald continued listening to all the clicks and creaks. “Uncle Scrooge thinks there’s at least TWO girls in there.” 

“Aw, what does he know,” she grinned. 

“ _Aha!_ You _do_ want boys.” 

“I never said that.” 

“It was implied.”

“It _was_ implied, Della,” Gyro interjected. 

“Aw, shut up, Gyro. What do you know?”

The inventor stood and checked out his reflection in his coffee pot. Gyro actually felt...kinda cool. 

“You like it?” 

He _loved_ it. He gave Donald a firm handshake. “And to answer your question, Della…” He flipped a switch and squinted at the attached monitor for a moment before reaching into his vest for his larger frames. “I do know that they’re all going to be boys.” 

“ _ **YES!!!**_ ”

The two of them looked at her. She cleared her throat as she stood from the cot and brushed herself off nonchalantly. “I mean, are they healthy?” Donald smirked, and she punched him in the arm. 

“Everything looks good!”

“Congrats, sis.” He gave her a quick squeeze before heading to the back of the lab to grab a broom. Della quickly slid up next to Gyro, who was running his fingers through the trimmed sides of his head. 

“Listen, Gyro…” She wanted to get all mushy before Don returned. “I just want to thank you.” 

“Thank me? For what?” 

Della sighed and slowly eased herself into Gyro’s chair. She started fiddling with one of his ray guns. “I was pretty out of it before I met you. I mean, I wasn’t even adventuring, for Pete’s sake. You continue to be the reason I get out of bed every morning.” She turned the laser on Li’l Bulb, who shrunk to the size of a pin. It (who was now fully functional, thanks to Della’s midnight encouragement sessions) started running aimlessly on the worktable. 

Gyro, who typically spoke his mind, couldn’t find the words to say. Della continued. “It’s crazy how much we’re good for each other, huh? Lately I’ve been feeling…I don’t know, _evil?_ I mean, I know it’s just the hormones or whatever, but I still have no idea why I get so mad at Scrooge and Don for leaving me behind. Like I’m feeling left out, or something? I could be doing more? _Way_ more? Well, anyways. When I’m around you, I realize that I’m just…”

“Misunderstood.”

“Right.” Della gathered the courage to finally look up, and found Gyro Gearloose offering her a tiny smile. She brushed few stray feathers off of the shoulder of his vest before giving his hand a quick squeeze.


	5. 5. A Close Shave

Della groaned as she passed by that _Empire_ program. Why was that show still airing? Do people really sit here and watch two roosters argue over making ottomans? Are you kidding? 

She noticed that while she flipped through the channels she was shivering vigorously. “Duckworth! When you get a chance can you PLEASE turn up the heat?”

“Duckworth?”

“Ah, right. He’s on vacation. Still. Well...am I that cold?”

”Okay, fine. Let’s go.”

Della pursed her beak and did three quick exhales before rolling off of the sofa. Grunting, she headed to her bedroom to grab her jacket. 

“Oh, right. Stairs. Okay, Della. You’ve done this a million times. One foot above the other. Come on. Let’s go.” She raised her left foot and nearly keeled over, the weight of the eggs yanking on the back of her shirt. “You know what? We’re just gonna crawl up there. Right! Take notes, kids!” With a firm grip on the railing, she lowered herself with painstaking slowness. She started sliding backwards up the staircase, flapping her arms to aid her thighs in giving her momentum against the murderous effects of gravity. “Stupid uncle and his stupid mansion with all of these stupid floors…” She had half a mind to ask Gyro to build some type of rocket escalator or something. Like right now. 

“Yes! We’re here. My room is right in here. Okay, babes. Now we gotta figure out how we’re gonna get up off the floor. Let’s see…aha! I knew no good would ever come from making your bed!” She slithered to the edge of her bed and tugged on the loose sheets. With all of her remaining strength, she tossed herself onto the mattress. 

“How am I working up a sweat and still freezing?!” She craned her neck in order to peek into her closet. “I can’t wait until you guys come out—UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.” 

She realized she had left the coat on the counter in the bathroom. 

“Alright. You can do this. Nothing can stop Della Duck! Not even an egg to the ribs! I hope…” She lifted her stomach and (thankfully) her swollen feet followed. She hobbled down the hallway and opened the third door to the left. She was immediately met with a beakful of plumage. 

"Hey! What’s the big idea! Didn’t we just discuss knocking, oh, I don’t know, twenty years ago?!” Donald squawked. 

“Maybe THAT’S why I couldn’t remember…” She grabbed her jacket and mumbled curses as she shook her brother’s feathers out of it. “What are you doing?”

He put down the razor and proudly showed her the small spot of pink flesh on his belly. “Well,” he started, all the anger from before gone, ”I figured, when you start brooding, you’re gonna have to take breaks. And my baby book says that a bald spot transfers more heat to the eggs. So...ta-da!”

Della felt tears well up. 

“And, I don’t know. Maybe we could—WAK!”

Della had started squeezing him as hard as she could. “Thank you, Donald. I was beginning to have nightmares when I realized how long I would be sitting there!”

He managed to wrestle from her pinning embrace and offered his hand with that fierce grin. “I got your back.” 

“And I got yours." 

"And Ducks don't back down," they exclaimed simultaneously. 

"Heh. I guess that means I’ll have to try to remember to leave a saucer of milk out there for you,” Della shrugged, hiding a chuckle and leaning on his shoulder. He shoved her off of him in mock anger and started cleaning up. 

* * *

“Let’s head over to Gyro’s.” She was serious about bringing up that lift thing. 

“Can’t. You know that boat I was eyeing? They’re letting it go at half price if I can get to the marina by three. I can drop you off, though, and Duckworth will be home soon if I’m not ready when you are.”

The three of them had joked over a few bags of chips and several cans of Pep stolen from the sixteenth floor’s vending machine before Donald bid farewell. He promised to make it up to them the next time they got together. 

“Okay, Gyro,” Della murmured once her brother had left. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Sure. But why are we whispering?”

“That guy knows echolocation. But I really wanted to run something by you.” She waited a few more moments before going to reach into her aviator’s jacket, forgetting that she stuck in maternity gowns. She growled as she glanced furiously all over the lab before catching sight of her stupid purse. What good would a purse do when you’re trying to dodge lasers, or squeeze into dusty crawl spaces? 

Well, she didn’t have to worry about any of those, now did she...

She took a deep breath and dug into the bag. She gently placed sets of blueprints into the chicken’s arms and squeezed her eyes shut for that famous Gearloose criticism. 

“Wow! This is amazing!” 

What? “Um...Think it’ll work?” 

He continued studying the plans. “If you rearrange some of these thrusters, and maybe if you redirect power here, here, and here…”

Gyro’s eyes twinkled as he continued to talk with Della. Even though she did not fall into the stereotypical categories of a woman of science, he could tell that her mind was amazing. The way her passion for adventure sparked phenomenal discourse, and how her experience made her even more knowledgeable...he was so entranced he didn’t even notice her groans of pain until she nearly collapsed on top of Li’l Bulb. Gyro rushed to catch her and almost buckled as well. How does Donald manage to make carting Della around look so easy? “Are you okay?” 

“I think they’re coming!” 

Gyro frowned and absently dropped her in order to rub his chin. “Really? According to my calculations, they’re about two weeks early.” 

“Well, according to my uterus, that doesn’t matter!” She rubbed her aching tail feathers. “We gotta get back to the mansion,” she heaved. “Everything is over there!” _Donald_ is over there! 

Gyro started clucking nervously. “I...I um, actually, I don’t know how to drive.” 

“WHAT.” 

“But I HAVE been working on a little something called a “smart car.” You see—“ A large grunt interrupted him. “Oh, right. Sorry. Um…”

“Here. Call Duckworth. He should be home by now…” Della quickly shoved a cellphone into his hands and continued grasping her spasming abdomen. 

“Um, hi. Is this Missus Duckworth?”

“He’s a guy, Gyro,” Della panted. Why? Why was this happening? She was supposed to be cozied up in a hospital bed, being injected with pain killers (maybe they’d even be willing to knock her out for the entire procedure), not trying to get Duckworth over here! 

“Listen, Della is about to start oozing. Can you get to the Bin? Okay, thanks, bye!”

“ _Why were you so stupid?_ J-just get me upstairs.” 

After strapping his friend to his last intact dolly, the two of them made their way to the elevator up to the first floor of the Bin. Once Gyro pushed through the swiveling entrance, he nearly ran over a tall dog’s freshly polished shoes. 

“Miss Della!” Duckworth exclaimed, baring his teeth in worry. “Are you alright? I heard you were... _oozing?_ I brought bandages.” 

“No! The eggs are coming RIGHT NOW!

The butler quickly ushered her into the front seat so that she would be able to recline. “Would you like me to take you to the hospital?”

“No, let’s just go back home,” she sobbed. Duckworth started shifting gears, and Della clasped the handrail in preparation for the dog’s wild driving. She paused and signaled for him to wait and roll down the window. “Gyro! What the duck are you doing? Get in the car!”

Giddily, the scientist slipped into the backseat. He’d never been in a limo before. 

* * *

In the mansion’s dining room, Donald continued flipping through the guidebook to baby’s first year, his appetite quickly diminishing. “I really can’t believe ducklings like pre-chewed food. _Gross._ ” He shoved away his peanut butter and jelly. 

“Nonsense, lad. Ye’d always blubber if I dinnae share my haggis with ye.” 

"YUCK! Uncle Scrooge!” He felt himself turn green, and his uncle started guffawing harder. A mischievous glint grew in Donald’s eye as he reached for the previously discarded sandwich. He took a bite, and while his uncle was distracted, he tackled him and held open his beak. 

“Ach! Okay, nephew! Nephew!”

“Ah, it’s _uncle_ now,” he giggled around a jawful of bread. “I need to practice. Hold still.” 

“Donald, RELAX! The bitty bairns haven’t even THOUGHT about hunger yet!” 

The younger duck swallowed and sighed, helping his uncle up. “I know,” he said, returning to a more serious tone. “I’m just...nervous, is all. What if—” 

“ _Nope._ Yer gonna be a great uncle. I would know.” 

“Ha, ha.” 

The older duck playfully swatted his nephew with his newspaper. 

Duckworth gently set down a set of towels and pillows, a pitcher of water and an accompanying glass, a heat lamp, and a wicker basket before clasping his paws behind his back. “I’d better excuse myself, if nothing else is needed, Lady Della.” 

“What? No! Well, you can leave if you want to, but you’re always welcome to stay, Duckworth! You’re family!” She reached over and patted his hand weakly. “Can you please call my brother? Then you can decide whether you want to come back or not. Because I WILL be oozing," she gagged. "A lot.” 

Duckworth had practically raised the girl. He’d seen worse. He widened his stride as he headed downstairs to the dining room. “Master Scrooge,” he nodded before turning to the younger duck. “Master Donald? Miss Della is currently in the process of laying the eggs, and has specifically requested your presence.” 

Donald immediately rose and started off in a dash towards his sister’s bedroom. Scrooge, following his nephew, nearly fell to the floor from the impact of ramming into the suddenly still duck. “What are ye doing, you slithering spud? Get a leg on!” Donald was frozen, his feathers paling. Scrooge paused and softened his tone. “What’s the matter, lad?” 

“My luck!” he hissed out of gritted teeth. “What if my being there causes something bad to happen? What if one of them gets stuck, or cracks? What if Della—“

“ _Della_ is a smart one,” he interrupted. “I’m sure she’s acknowledged those things and more. But she wants ye anyway! So you gotta go in and be there for her! What is it you two say? ‘Ducks don’t back down?’” 

Donald steeled himself and readjusted his cap, a determined scowl spreading across his face. “Yeah. Let’s go.” He began in a march down the hall. 

“Della, I’m here. What do you want me to—WAK!” His clammy sister had yanked his sleeve and clutched him to her chest, nearly flipping him over the bed in the process. He could hear her rattling exhales and erratic heartbeat. “It’s okay,” he rasped, having a bit of breathing trouble himself. “Breathe! You gotta remember to breathe!” Donald heard the pattern change to one they were taught in those birthing classes. ”That’s it.” He offered his hand. “I’ve got your back,” he soothed in her ear. She snatched it and felt him give a reassuring squeeze. 

“Okay, Della,” Gyro coached. “When you feel the contraction, you have to push. I believe the next one should be happening right about…” He snapped out his wrist to glare at his watch, but then he remembered he was wearing his temperature band instead. Ignoring the duck’s screams of horror, he tried to calculate the time in his head.

“Oh my...!”

Della had never experienced pain as intense as this, not even when she encountered a hundred scorpion bites, not even when she had broken both of her legs at once in that skydiving incident, not even when she was hit by that weird ginger driver. She felt as if her entire body was on fire, as if all of her bones in her lower region were rearranging themselves, as if she was expelling a splintery log, as if she was about to vomit her lungs, as if she were about to have an aneurysm. 

“That’s one!”

She wanted to stop, to cry and spit and beg for the rest of them to just remain in there, but nothing is supposed to stop Della Duck. _Nothing._ She gritted her teeth and attempted to focus on her uncle. He grabbed a blue towel from Duckworth’s outstretched arms and quickly dried the warm egg. Scrooge noted how the cloth shared the same pigment as the sapphires the three of them acquired months ago. He swore the cotton shimmered once the egg was wrapped in it. “Just two more, Della!” he reassured, gently placing the hatchling in the basket. 

“Thirty-three percent there!” Gyro chirped. 

“Ugh, numbers aren’t helping right now, Gyro! Especially if they’re not ‘one-hundred!’”

“Ye dinnae have the energy to argue right now!” 

Della sighed shakily, preparing herself for the next contraction. A wave of strain rushed over her, and she grunted in exertion. She felt as if she was forcing out more than just the chick. “Oh my gosh,” she hissed in embarrassment, pausing to gather her breath. “Did I just...“ 

“Don’t worry about it,” they all urged. “Just keep pushing.” 

“Catch him,” she half-screamed. 

The emerald linen glowed as Scrooge bundled up the next egg. “Yer nearly done, lass! One more, one more!” 

“Come on, you can do it! Push!”

A sickening crack echoed throughout the room. “Oh, no,” Della inhaled, not daring to breathe. “What was that?” 

“Um…” Scrooge quickly inspected the eggs, but they both seemed fine. 

“Not to worry!” Gyro piped up. ”It was merely Donald’s hand!” 

“Merely,” he choked. He replaced the broken appendage with his right. “Come on, Della. One more.” 

Della felt as if all of her lower muscles had stretched to their breaking point and tore to pieces, but she did not dare to look, not even when the last of her clutch popped out smoothly. She took a deep breath, hoping to catch her heart before it flew out of her chest, and released her twin’s wing. Only then did she realize she was clenching her teeth and her shoulders, and she felt her entire body vibrating from a mixture of shame, relief, and pride. 

Duckworth offered the last towel, which was stitched with fibers that were a ruby richer than blood. Scrooge reached down to pick up the basket, and saw how the eggs glinted brighter than freshly-waxed gold. He was almost tempted to lock them away in his money bin. “Here you go, lass,” he whispered in awe. “Your baby boys.” 

“They’re beautiful, Dells,” Donald squeaked as crunching resonated in his ears. Gyro continued wrapping his hand. 

“Yes! They look really healthy!” 

“Worthy of the McDuck-Duck name, if I may say so.” 

“Thanks, everyone,” she panted, her eyes threatening to flutter shut. “Donald, can you take them, please?”

Donald gulped as Gyro nodded at him, giving him the go-ahead. His uncle’s voice whispered, _But she wants ye anyway!_

Minding his hand, Donald scooped them all up and returned them to the basket. 

They remained intact.


	6. 6. Houseboat Willie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never actually seen Steamboat Willie, I just really wanted to use the name bwahaha.

Della had allowed her twin to bring in friends from all over the globe to come admire the new eggs. She could barely remember a time when the houseboat was empty, despite there not being enough room for more than six people at a time. One such friend was the famous actor Mickey Mouse. He and her brother were hired for a few of Uncle Scrooge’s workplace safety films (they, along with the George “Goofy” Goof, were the only ones willing to work for literal peanuts), and many people found them astounding. Hilarious, even. Directors had booked them back to back in Hollywood, and the rest was history. Even though Donald had gotten tired of acting and returned to Duckburg to continue adventuring with her and Uncle Scrooge, he still kept in touch with his connections, and surprisingly had made even more (there was even a few stints with orange juice and video games, but her brother avoided talking about those to “keep the peace” or something like that). 

Mickey had his own nephews, Morty and Ferdie, so Della trusted him and Donald to watch the eggs for a few hours while she went out with Scrooge ~~on their next adventure~~ to gather the finishing touches for the nursery. She was willing to do anything at this point to get out of that stuffy mansion, even if it meant shuffling around with her cheapskate of an uncle at a boring mall all freaking day. 

“Still can’t draw, huh, Donald?” the mouse whistled, eyeballing his friend’s egg with mock contempt. Mickey turned his attention back to his, decorating it with red and white polka dots. Unfortunately Minnie was easily seasick, and even though Donald promised to keep the boat docked if she had tagged along, she refused to come. So now it was just the five of them, lounging around on the lazy waves on a warm Sunday afternoon. Spring had just arrived. 

“Hey! This was supposed to be PRACTICE for Easter, remember? I don’t need the sass. Plus, I have to keep my eye on the sea, since you never did learn how to sail.” 

“I DO know how.” 

“Swinging a prop wheel while using rear projection does NOT mean you know how.” 

The mouse simply whipped his tail and knocked the marker out of his friend’s hand before grabbing the last egg. He simply pretended not to see the pink feathers and sighed affectionately, “Do we have an orange up here? Orange is such a jolly color.” A series of quacks emitted from Donald’s mouth, and Mickey managed to catch some of the spewed nonsense. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Donald. Not in front of the hatchlings. You’re gonna have to get a hold of that temper soon enough, you know.” 

“Who the FUCK still says ‘jolly’? And it’s not even Christmastime!”

“Everyday is Christmas, Donnie.” 

The duck thought for a moment before giving the ship’s wheel a sharp yank. The boat obeyed, dipping its left side into the water and completely dousing Mickey and his respective eggs. The rainbow of ink bled all over the shells and the mouse’s trademarked red shorts and yellow shoes. 

“Still can’t draw, huh Mickey?” Donald whistled, eyeing his friend and the mess with mock contempt. 

“Touché, Donald Duck. Touché.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to capture a bit of Donald's jealousy and competitiveness here :) again, thank you all for your support and I'll see you in the next chapter!


	7. 7. The Prequel to the X-Games

“Gawrsh, Della. They’re beautiful.” 

Instead of joining Mickey and Minnie in the kitchen (the latter of which was trying to distract herself by making sure all of the burners were off; Donald did always have a hard time remembering his kettle), Goofy knelt down in front of his good friend and stared at her eggs in awe. The Goof had always admired the way ducks were able to make their own breakfast, but nothing could compare to the beauty of such that was the developing embryos. It made him reminiscent of the old days, waiting around for Max to be born, just ogling over his wife’s tummy for hours on end. Grinning, he reached behind his back and softly took his son’s trembling hand. “Lookie here, Maxie. There’s nothing to be scared of. These are your cousins.”

“Cool! Can I hold them, Auntie Della?”

Donald stood from his spot on the loveseat and went to adjust the heat. The waves were bringing in a bit of a cool breeze today. He fondly watched as the puppy slid next to his twin with excitement.

“Which one of these cool guys do you want, Max?” He apprehensively pointed to the egg on the left, and she gently laid it in his arms. “You got him? Great. Make sure you always use both hands, alright? Or else your Uncle Donald might start squawking.” She recalled how the other day she was (for just a SECOND, mind you) carrying the newest one around while holding a cup of coffee in the other hand when Donald had snuck up behind her and purposely bumped her arm. Ignoring the scalding stains on her jacket, she had whirled around on him. 

_“What’d you do that for, ya big palooka?”  
“Teaching you a lesson. What if I did your other wing, stupid?”_

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little cautious.” 

“THE Donald Duck? Being cautious? I never knew you to be a fuddy-duddy, Donald.” 

Donald rolled his eyes at Minnie and waved her off. What was up with her and Mickey talking like they were from the 1400s? “There’s a difference between being cautious and being smart.” 

Goofy snapped one last photo of his son and his nephew before glancing over at the face of his watch. “Gawrsh,” he muttered before clearing his throat and looking pointedly at Donald and Della. “Mick, Min, and I did have to meet an associate over down in Hollywood. Mind watching Maxie while we’re out?”

Distractedly, Della placed the remaining eggs into what she believed to be the carriage. She crossed her legs as she continued the conversation with Goofy. “Not at all. Who’s the associate?”

“Hm,” the dog rubbed his chin in thought. “Pretty name...just can’t put my finger on it right now. Some type of flower! I think it was Lily?”

“Perhaps it was Chrysanthemum,” Donald joked. 

Goofy ignored him, still in deep thought. “Maybe Rosie.”

Minnie rubbed her temples distressfully, her roseate cheeks turning lime. “Daisy. Daisy Duck. She’s supposed to be our new designer.”

“I knew it was a flower, hyuck!”

“We best be going if we’re gonna make it back to Duckburg before sunset. Thanks again, pals.” 

“Sure thing. If anything, it’d give me a little more practice. Safe travels!” 

The twins grinned at each other as they waved the last of the trio out. Della turned to face the wagon, and Donald noticed how she turned a deep violet. “Oh no,” she gasped. “Where are they? Where are my kids?”

Maximillian Goof made sure the two straps of his helmet made the clicking sound as he connected them together before skating over to one of the deck chairs on Uncle Donald’s ship. It was going to be a bit difficult to perform the trick, what with the water causing the boat to rock, but he just had to try. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, ducks and chickens,” he bellowed in a deep announcer’s voice. “Presenting...Max Goof! He glares down his adversary, the towering mound of pipes, and bends his knees in daring. Uh oh, he’s picking up speed! About three million horsepowers, folks! Will. He. Clear. The Jump? It’s too soon to tell—and OOOF!”

Even though he managed to get over the chair, his skateboard got away from him and he clattered to the deck. He shook it off and started searching for his board, which had managed to drift towards his wagon full of pillows. 

“Oh, you guys want a turn? Sure thing.” He deepened his voice again. “Now on the pipe we have Max Goof’s cousins! Stepping onto the plate even though they’re—what? Zero years old! That’s gotta be some type of record!” The crowd roared. “What are they attempting? Nollie, frontside 180, and followed by a kickflip? They’ve got to be NUTS, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s see…”

He gently rotated the three eggs against each other, the screams growing louder and louder until they finished. 

“Look! Don, they’re outside!” The ducks ran from the porthole in Donald’s bedroom and climbed onto the deck in relief. Della scooped all of her eggs up protectively. “Aw, Maxie, next time let us know when you’re coming outside. Your uncle Donald was worried sick.” 

Before the sailor could say anything, the puppy asked, “When are they going to grow their legs so we can REALLY play?”

“Oh, they don’t look like this. The egg is kinda like a little house for them until they are ready to hatch.”

“Oh, cool!”

Donald bent down and adjusted the kid’s helmet. Wouldn’t be any help if it was too loose. “Alright there, Maxie?” 

It took him a moment to process what he had said. “Yes, Unca Donald! Come skate with me!” Donald made a funny face and Della chuckled. Now THAT was a long story. 

“Why don’t you just show me your sweet moves on the half pipe?”

“Really? We’re going to Sandpiper Skatepark?!” Sure, Spoonerville had great roller rinks, but none could compare to the pipes at Sandpiper. 

“Yep! Let’s go.”

Della returned the eggs back to the wagon and took up the handle. “I think me and the boys will tag along. Gotta teach them early, am I right? I mean, how else are they going to be pros about burning down Scrooge’s bannisters?”


	8. 8. Hatch Rehash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, as stated in the tags and the rating I will be discussing some sensitive topics in this work. Nothing too explicit or graphic, but I just want to make sure everyone stays safe. I also want to say that I'm here if anyone wants to rant to an Internet stranger or needs a virtual hug :) 
> 
> For those of you who might be concerned, I took some info from Frank Angones's tumblr blog that stated Donald and Della were in the same egg. That's obviously a sign of complications so I have Quackmore and Hortense worrying a bit. Good news though, everyone makes it out okay! These ducks are luckier than they think...

“One last adventure.” 

“You keep saying that, Della,” Donald groaned. Don’t get him wrong, he would never be one to turn down an adventure. In fact, he was itching to get back out there in the field, probably even more than Della. But the triplets’ hatch date was coming up fast, and he was nervous enough as it was already; their quick trip to Quackistan would be with _Gladstone_ of all people. Who conveniently happened to already be at the babysitter’s house. 

Della gently shifted the basket and reached to open their grandmother’s front door. The old woman always left it unlocked, a bit of a game she played with the Beagle Boys across the way. She claimed it kept her senses sharp. “Grandma, we’re here! Besides Donald, how long do you think it would take the FOUR of us to dislodge that map?” 

“I don’t know,” he snapped. “Depends on GLADSTONE’s mood.” 

“Someone called?” 

“Speak of the devil…” 

“Quadruple Ds! How you guys doing? Good to see you. Come on. F-Boy’s in the yard picking berries.”

Donald and Della groaned simultaneously. “Don’t call him that.” Gladstone simply laughed good-naturedly and went to elbow the both of them before Donald protectively shoved him away from the basket. 

“Ah, yes. That weird twin thing where you talk at the same time. Guess you gotta be ready for that with the three of these guys, huh?” 

Della gave Donald’s hand a reassuring squeeze when she noticed he was getting red in the face. “Look at this guy, assuming all multiples are the same...why I oughta…” 

“Cool your jets, Don. Go outside and help Fethry. I’ll be out there in a second.” 

Donald had enough time to squeak out a quick “Hi Grandma!” before Gladstone started dragging him into the yard. Della rushed up the stairs and burst into the first door on the right. “Grandma! Whatcha up to?” 

“Knitting the little ones some sweaters.” She gestured to the pair of completed ones, one as bright as the sun and the other as dark as a batch of grapes, before holding up the orange one in progress. “Mail’s been a bit slow so I wasn’t sure what they are.”

Della came over and slipped the sweaters over the eggs before giving her grandmother a kiss on the cheek. “Boys. All three of them.”

Elvira gave a small smile, recalling the extra bundles of baby blue yarn she had picked up the other day. She still had it. “How are you feeling, dear?”

“I’m...well, I’m feeling a lot of things. I’m trying to burn off all of the nervous energy first so I can invest ALL of my time in being excited.”

“It’s certainly okay to feel anxious, Della,” Elvira eyed her granddaughter knowingly. The girl had always felt like she had something to prove, even tracking back to the day she was hatched. “All new mothers are. Old mothers too, heck.”

Della scoffed. “Come on, Grandma! Nothing can—” 

“—stop Della Duck, I know. And don’t you ever forget that. But there’s certainly a difference between confidence and pride.”

Even though she felt a bit bad about leaving Donald out there to suffer, Della sat down on her grandmother’s bed. “W-what do you mean?” 

“Have your parents ever told you about your hatching?” Della shook her head. That subject had always been a bit touchy in their household, and after she and Donald moved in with Uncle Scrooge, it seemed kinda...boring. But now, with the way Grandma was implying she and her mother had something in common? Della was suddenly extremely interested. She caught herself edging closer to the rocker. “Well, you and your brother were born special. Instead of a normal clutch, where each baby bird gets their own egg—like these precious ones right here,” she paused to give an affectionate pat to her each of her new grandbabies, “—you two shared one egg. Your ma and daddy and Scrooge were just so anxious…”

“But we made it out okay, right? Tougher than the toughies, right from the start!” 

“That you are, sweetheart. That you are.”

* * *

Elvira, who was knitting in her daughter-in-law’s new rocking chair (which was surprisingly gifted by Scrooge McDuck), peeked at her son’s frantic pacing. Scrooge had suggested taking the child down to the Money Bin’s Worry Room, but Hortense was already riled up from being far enough away from Castle McDuck as it was. “Quackmore, stop crossing yer arms and go make sure all of the windows are shut and locked. It’s a tad too cold in here for my liking.” Quackmore nodded, grateful for the distraction, and shuffled off. Despite the heat of the summer, they were instructed to keep the old farmhouse at 100 degrees (as if they didn’t have enough to worry about), since physical brooding was recommended against to prevent any additional “stress” to the egg? Elvira never understood medical mumbo-jumbo...

“I’m not sure if we’re tae use the whiskey, salt, o butter…” Scrooge muttered, shuffling the bowls of the stuff around on the nightstand. “Should we just give the bairns all three?”

“You will NOT be giving my grandchildren _alcohol!_ All of you just need to relax! All of this stress is probably making everything worse.” She set down a basket full of pink and blue yarn (the latter of which she had purchased on a hunch) and stood in order to give Hortense her seat. Quackmore rushed into the room. 

“THEY’RE HATCHING! THEY’RE IN THERE, AND THEY’RE HATCHING!” 

The four of them ran into the hottest room of the farmhouse to find a small egg trembling in a crib full of damp blankets. Hortense steeled herself and knelt in front of the cradle. 

One doctor had said that it was likely the entire egg wouldn’t be viable. She saw another, who said that one of the chicks wouldn’t develop all of the way. Another told her that one of them wouldn’t make it through the hatching. Another said they’d be conjoined. There simply wouldn’t be enough time for the both of them to grow without completely crowding each other, they all said. Either one or both of her girls would be severely malnourished. 

Quacks, the lot of them. 

She felt her breathing pick up. She’d been convincing herself that both of them would turn out fine; they were McDucks, they were fighters! But now, she felt underprepared for the unfortunate case that she might actually...that she might have to...they...

 _Quacks, the lot of them,_ she reminded herself. 

“Sh!” Quackmore continued, rubbing the back of his moist neck anxiously. “Everyone shut your trap! They’re hatching! Shut up, me!”

“Quiet down, ye garrulous galoot! Yer spitting all over me nieces!” 

Elvira sighed as she inattentively watched the clashing of the McDuck and Duck tempers. She waved off the boys’ little cat fight and grasped her daughter’s clammy hand. Her ears strained on the lookout for the soft crackling. Eider, Daphne, and Quackmore’s hatchings had all gone by relatively quickly, and she had hoped for the same for the twins for the men’s sakes. The heat was obviously getting to them. 

“Wait. Do you hear that?” 

“No.” 

“EXACTLY!” Both of them brushed themselves off to hurry to the crib. The egg seemed like a little pebble falling into an abyss. The tip of a tiny beak poked out near the bottom of the egg. Was she...was someone upside down? “Oh. Oh, no. Hortense, they’re stuck!”

“Hortense, the bairns are stuck!” 

“I can see that!” she snapped anxiously. Scrooge reached forward to help, but his sister shoved him away. “What are you doing, you kooky crackshell?!”

“Helping! The lasses need help!”

“No! Dinnae read any of the hatching material I sent ye? Just...just wait.” 

“Yeah, Scroogie.” Quackmore tucked his shirt back in (although he did not wear pants) and wrapped a wing around his wife’s shoulder. “It can even take up to a day.” 

Scrooge spluttered. “A day! I should’ve taken Matilda up on that offer to go watch the emu races. Even though those galavanting gamblers have more grey matter than yer guppy of a husband.” 

“Sh…” Grandma muttered, fanning herself. “Give the ducklings some time. You kids nowadays. Always in a hurry.” 

“Are ye calling ME a KID? I’ll have ye know, Elvira—“ 

There was a sudden shattering noise coming from the back of the egg, and an extremely small duckling came tumbling out. Elvira clutched her chest in amazement, and gently pulled Scrooge towards her. “Let her imprint on her parents, Scrooge.” 

“Right,” he flushed. “I knew that.” But Elvira still felt a bit of resistance coming from his end of the sleeve. “She’s just so pretty…a bewitching bonny. Glamorous gal. Divine little duckling, isn’t she?” 

She started flapping her wings furiously, ready to take flight. She nearly toppled over, but Hortense caught her in an outstretched hand. “She’s an excited one! Already headed for the skies...”

“Oh, yes! All fired up, ready for adventure. She reminds me a bit of my recent ride up to Adelaide.” Hortense rolled her eyes, and Elvira felt the tension lessen. Scrooge McDuck could never resist talking about himself, and Hortense McDuck could never resist holding in her disapproval for her older brother. “I found a small flock of owls that liked to flap around, just like that! Some type of ceremonial celebration of the goddess of the moon and wild nature, Artemis.” 

“Hold yer horses,” Hortense growled. She had recently learned that expression from Elvira. “Yer not actually expecting me tae name my child after one of yer irritating excursions? After _wild nature?_ ” 

“Well, why not? I’ve been doing some investigating on epithets and Adelaide and its derivatives mean ‘nobility.’” 

“Investigating on epithets, huh? I thought ye’d rather be gambling with Tilly. It’s nice tae know ye care, Scroogie.” Upon seeing the blush on her brother’s face, she turned her attention back to her flailing baby. Daphne’s little one, a healthy boy who was born a few months prior, was at least three times bigger than Della, nearly dwarfing her. “Oh!” she gasped, gently clutching the hatchling, who was attempting to slip through the cracks of her mother’s fingers. “This infuriating idiot actually picked out a good name. What dae ye think about ‘Della’?”

Quackmore nodded distractedly. He couldn’t afford to bask in his daughter’s beauty just yet; his other one had gone completely silent. He got on his knees and tucked his wings under his leg in an attempt to resist the temptation of ripping open the shell himself. Instead he stared intently, praying that perhaps his gaze would be enough. That if he loved this kid enough, she’d turn out to be okay. 

Nothing. 

Despite the warmth blanketing the room, Quackmore felt a cold chill down his spine. This was all his fault. He wasn’t sure exactly how, but he was certain...maybe something had gone wrong during conception, maybe he squeezed Hortense’s hand too hard when she was laying. Maybe he’d hugged the egg too tight, or told it the wrong stories, or—

“Quit that, Quackmore,” Hortense growled, handing Della to Elvira. “She’s fine, remember? Just be patient.”

“But the doctors said—“

“No. What did I say? They’re a bunch of quacks. They know absolutely NOTHING.” She eyed the egg, waiting for the remaining duckling to prove her right. “Quacks,” she repeated with less vigor, but she shook it off. “Quacks! _Quacks, quacks, quacks!_ ”

“Hortense…” Scrooge started, reaching out to comfort his sister. He had been preparing for this. He and Quackmore...well, the real reason he stayed to watch the birth was that Quackmore had requested that he be the one to remove the egg, should anything like...like this happen. They both knew that Hortense put up a strong front, that she was immensely stubborn, and that she wouldn’t want to face the facts. 

“DINNAE TOUCH MAE. Now look here. I overtook that trying Teddy with just a tiny tad of my tenacity, and I’m going to do the same here! I was promised two children, I am gonnae get two children!” Hortense turned on the egg, her red-rimmed eyes blazing. “Listen here, ducky. I’m gonnae see the way ye waddle, e I’m gonnae teach ye tae talk. And here’s a valuable life lesson (because yer gonnae LIVE, an donas dubh!) when someone knocks ye down, ye get right up again! So show some pluck, little Duck!” 

Hortense was interrupted by brutal quacking noises. The five of them watched as the duckling erupted from the egg, swinging out one of her arms and hopping on one foot until she quickly lost her balance and landed promptly on her butt. 

“Ye’ve gotta mouth on ya, don’t ye? Dinnae talk back to yer mam.” 

Shakily, Quackmore reached into the crib and picked her up. He noted how he could feel all of her bones and tendons and muscles, how she could break at any moment. He also noted something else. “Oh! She’s...she’s a boy,” he chuckled. 

“She is? He is?”

Grandma smiled knowingly, recalling her bundles of yarn. 

In his palm, the duckling gave a hoarse chirp. Quackmore gulped and shared a glance with his mother, who gave him a reassuring smile. Tears started to form in his eyes as he reached out for his daughter. He held the both of them together and exhaled as they snuggled within each other. The trembling index finger of his other hand caressed their teeny foreheads. His childhood with his sister quickly flashed before his eyes, the confused feelings of admiration and jealousy he had grown towards Daphne, towards her bewildering luck. All of that disappeared with another view of his babies. Quackmore Duck believed himself to be the luckiest guy in the world, distelfink or not. “I want to name him after one of the bravest men ever to live,” he finally announced, his voice cracking all over. 

Scrooge blushed, and Hortense gave him an exasperated slap. “Let the man speak, you egomaniacal idiot. What did you have in mind, mo ghràdh?”

“Don. Donald.”

“I think it’s lovely.”

“Ah. Dòmhall. World-wielder. A suitable name for a McDuck clansman.”

“The kid’s a Duck, Scroogie,” Quackmore flared. 

“The kid will be whatever I want it to be, as long as yer under me payroll.” 

“Oh! So you want to make this about money huh! I'll make you pay, that's for sure.” 

“Willae the two of ye _stop it!_ ”

* * *

“So the moral of the story is to get mad and then things will go your way? That doesn’t work with Donald.”

“No...” 

“Yell at the president and the kids?”

Elvira shook her head. The girl was just like her father! “No, child. My point is, you’ve decided to have these kids, get all of your feelings out NOW. However you want to express them, express them. Do not ignore them. I had talked with your mother before...before she left, and even though the woman put up a strong front, she said those feelings of denial were some of her biggest regrets. That hatching could’ve gone either way, with her yelling or not, and she worried about never having a chance at true closure because she had gotten too stubborn. Now, don’t you forget who you are. You’re Della Duck, a great adventurer, stunning pilot, amazing granddaughter. But you’re also Della Duck, mother. You can’t run from that, sweetheart. It’s best you come to terms with that real soon, or else something _will_ stop you.”

Della sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. She knew Grandma was right, but…

“Get on out there, dear. I don’t want Donald finding the axe in the shed and using it on your cousin.”

“Thanks, Grandma. Love you!” 

Elvira waited for the clunking down the stairs to pass before shaking her head and turning to her great-grandchildren, “You see that? Nearly got mush for brains. Doesn’t really matter though, I suppose.” She grinned. “Your mother and your uncle Donald turned out to be some of the finest ducks I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. You babies will be growing up in one of the greatest families in history."

Elvira set down her needles and presented the last egg with the finished sweater. She gathered the three of them up proudly and swayed gently in the dying sunlight.


	9. 9. Babies Sleep at Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! As I mentioned before, I don’t know much about Scottish and/or Gaelic culture, so I just used Google and found this song by Judy Collins. If it is inaccurate or offensive in any way, please let me know and I’ll get to work on fixing it! 
> 
> Also, since we have so much of Donald appearing everywhere else, I HC that in the 2017verse he did most of his exploits (being a superhero, spy, caballero, actor, naval sailor, etc) during and right out of college (16-26 years old). I hope to delve into more in my WIP “Legend of the Three Estudiantes.”
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated and thanks for reading!

Another uneventful day at the Money Bin.

Scrooge McDuck recalled that day sixteen years ago when he walked into his office and found it in utter ruin, in the midst of which stood two dastardly ducklings, with their copious queries and infuriating instruments. And then to be sent off to disrupt F.O.W.L.‘s plans by intercepting that spell-binding scroll, despite having bounties of business to take care of at the Bin?

One of the best days of his life, honestly. And he’s lived a long life. 

Unfortunately, not much could compare. He absolutely hated being in the office now. He’d much rather be out there in the field with his kids, not signing off stocks and fighting about funds.

Scrooge found himself instructing Duckworth to pass by Hookbill Harbor so that he could see his niece and nephews. The driver politely obliged, accustomed to his employer stopping by the marina after a particularly long day at the Bin; Della had been taking up her brooding shifts at Donald’s new houseboat to keep him company while he fixed it up, and despite her strong dislike of fish, usually found herself sleeping over. The old duck was probably lonely, even though he never actually stepped out of the car and knocked on the door. 

Duckworth left a knowing smile in the rear view mirror. 

Not after too long, the McDuck limousine was on the docks. Impulsively, the butler swiftly stepped out to get the door. Scrooge hesitated as he ironed out his coat with his hands and swung out his cane. “Erm...ye can go on tae Killmotor, Duckworth.”

“Of course, sir.” Scrooge groaned at the glint in his staff’s eyes. The old dog could be so annoying at times. “Would you like me to return with proper sleepwear? Your money bag plushie? A cup of nutmeg tea?”

The miser shook his head and removed his hat. He would be sleeping at home tonight. “No, and ye dinnae have tae wait up, either. I’ll see ye in the morning.”

“Very well, sir. Have a good night.”

Scrooge dug into his pocket and pulled out a small brass key. Donald had taken the time to coat it in gold paint, thinking it would encourage his uncle to take time out of his busy day and come over to the modest houseboat. Little did the lad know, Scrooge would meet Donald at the edge of the earth, just for the heck of it. 

He quietly let himself in, unsure if the twins were asleep, but before he made his way down and around the corner, he caught their hushed voices. 

“So. Are you planning on moving out of the mansion, now that you’ve got this cool boat?”

“Of course not! I’m here to stay, you know that.”

“Then why’d you get a _house_ boat, instead of just a regular sailing one?”

Scrooge heard Donald sigh in some type of dreamy content. “I was thinking about taking the boys around, you know? Sort of like an RV.”

The old duck found himself with the same concern Della voiced aloud. “Take ‘em on a test run right now! Aren’t you finished with all of the repairs?”

“Well, yeah, but. It’s really...I don’t want to get shipwrecked or anything like that with three eggs, you know. What if they hatch?” Donald yawned. “Besides, I’m too tired to sail. I’m going to go lay down, okay?”

“Alright you fuddy-duddy,” Della teased good-naturedly. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait.” Their voices were nearly extinguished, and Scrooge felt a chill go up his spine. Were the eggs hatching?

 _“There is someone here,”_ Donald signed urgently. Della stifled a gasp and stood angrily, rolling up her sleeves and marching towards the plank. She did hear some uneven clomping sound, as if their intruder had hooves. 

_“I’ll turn ‘em to glue.”_ But there was a sharp yank on the back of her shirt. The way Donald tapped his index and middle fingers against his thumb was almost deafening. 

_“No. You go make sure the eggs are safe. I’ll handle it.”_

She watched as her brother bent and silently removed a floorboard that sat in front of the loveseat. He reached down and wielded a 4c falchion, a bit rusty, perhaps to give an opponent a smack of tetanus. With a torrid sensation bubbling in her chest, she realized that he was right. Being a mother, she would have to get used to playing on the defensive, rather the offensive.

How boring. 

The aviator ( _EX-aviator_ , she thought) defeatedly trudged across the room and gently closed the guest bedroom door behind her. She turned and ran her fingers across the pearly white shells and glanced up at the moon. She never noticed its gleam before; maybe it was the way the ocean reflected, or the lack of clouds, but nothing had shone brighter than her eggs until now. 

She had to talk to Gyro. 

Della was pulled away from her thoughts when Donald’s squawk rang out and something clattered down the plank. Something like… “Uncle Scrooge’s cane!” Confident she was right, Della threw open the door and found the Von Drake Action PPK rolling along the wooden floor. She grabbed the staff and looked up to find a slightly flustered Scrooge McDuck held at sword’s point, a few of his feathers floating innocently onto the deck. 

“You’ve gotten much better with a sword,” Scrooge breathlessly admitted. He couldn’t recall ever teaching his nephew that maneuver. 

“You learn a thing or two musketeering and hanging around King Arthur,” his nephew chuckled, lowering the weapon and pushing further into the boat. With a quick nod at Della, Scrooge promptly accepted the cane and hotly chased after Donald, hiding his glee. 

“Oh? Is that what ye were doing for the last few years? Gallivanting with Galahad while I had to pay out of my own pocket for sailors?”

Donald scoffed, hiding his glee. “Well, at least I saved you a bit on a haircut. You look younger without the tuft. Consider my ‘debt’ paid. What are you doing out here, Dels?”

“I have two perfectly functioning legs, Donald. I can walk wherever, whenever.”

“And suppose that wasn’t Scrooge?”

The old miser noticed feathers flaring and hearts racing, and although he didn’t really understand why, he sent the kids to sleep. “The two of ye must be exhausted. Go on up tae bed, I’ll watch over the wee ones.” Without much argument, he received a kiss on each cheek, and then he was alone with the hatchlings. He crept over slowly to the crib, eyeing its integrity dubiously (he understood that Donald was a mechanic, but that didn’t automatically mean the clumsy clod could construct cradles). Cautiously, he threw his leg over the railing, praying to his number one dime that the thing wouldn't collapse. “That dopey duck turns out to be good for something after all,” he muttered, slowly sliding up to the clutch. “Alright kids, I'll be watching ye tonight. Sweet dreams, dinnae let the metal mites bite.”

Scrooge put aside his hat, removed his overcoat, and padded both around the eggs. He shut his eyes. 

“Can’t sleep?” he whispered after twelve seconds. “Me neither. I even counted rubies for a while! It dinnae work. I think I’m just excited tae be doing this all over again, and from the beginning! Either that or I’m—dare I say it—actually _stressed_ about my meeting with the board tomorrow. Those vexatious vultures haven’t been pleased with the sight of yer continuous charges.” He allowed himself a chuckle as he gently patted the one on the right. “Aye, what do they know? Yer McDucks! You’ll grow up with the finest.” With a groan he started humming before warbling in a low tone:

_“Hush, the waves are rolling in  
White with foam, white with foam  
Father toils amid the din  
But Baby sleeps at home  
Hush the winds roar hoarse and deep  
On they come, on they come  
Brother seeks the wandering sheep  
But Baby sleeps at home  
Hush, the rain sweeps over the knowes  
Where they roam, where they roam  
Sister goes to seek the cows  
But Baby sleeps at home.”_

Scrooge yawned and nestled deeper against the shells. If he listened really hard, he might have been able to hear how around the corner, Donald and Della snuggled closer in the small hammock, their knees bumping against their chests and nostalgic snores leaving their beaks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t really know the meaning of this song, but from what I understand the lyrics do match this little family...  
> - _Father toils amid the din_ : Scrooge has a hard time understanding that family is more important than work/wealth, and would rather work himself to death doing something he hates than get heartbroken by loss of a loved one.  
> - _Brother seeks the wandering sheep_ : Shepherds are supposed to take care of all of their sheep, no matter what, and Donald does this by doing heroics all over the world, and ultimately taking in the motherless children.  
> - _Sister goes to seek the cows_ : Honestly reminded me of that children’s story _The Cow Jumped Over the Moon_ and the Phineas and Ferb episode “Moon Farm,” where the gang flies out to the moon to see if its rumors are true. Della immaturely abandoned her family and responsibilities to go on a wild adventure.  
> - _Baby sleeps at home_ : Coincidentally this line is repeated three times, and there are triplets to be hatched. The lines before each of these verses can be interpreted to be water (Donald), air (Della), and land (Scrooge). 
> 
> That’s enough of my own literary analysis for one day huh? Let me hear your thoughts in the comments!


	10. 10. Brain Cell Breakout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to tumblr’s jorrated for helping with the Portuguese!

“Can Pancho and Zé come see? PLEAAAAAAAASE.” 

Della sighed, rolling her eyes at how her brother dropped to his knees and winced at the sudden contact with the wooden planks. Stupid palooka. “You know the three of you share only one brain cell.”

“If we focus really hard, it makes good decisions.” 

She stared into the stupid puppy eyes he was giving her. “Fine. If you can manage to keep rational thought from flying out the porthole, they can see.” 

“I promise!” 

This promise was broken not even an hour later.

Della had retired to Donald’s hammock for a few hours of rest before the swapped shift. She drifted off to the memory of watching the boys gawking at her children, their beaks conking against the floor as if they were stuck in some type of trance. Panchito might’ve had a bit of drool leaking out of his...

Just the mere presence of the rest of the Caballeros caused the neuron to leak out of José’s ear and dribble down the cream sleeves of his coat and the emerald feathers of his leg. It had gone by unnoticed; the parrot was too busy staring in awe at the twinkle of the shells. Because of the Caballeros’ adventitious exploits, he wasn’t able to meet Zico and Zeca until just a few years ago, and he often found himself regretting missing their hatching. 

“Meet my nephews,” Donald finally announced, his chest puffing out in pride. 

“ _¡Guau!_ They are so small!” 

“I know! Just the perfect size for threesie juggling.” 

The parrot and the rooster eyeballed each other mischievously as the brain cell inched up the plank and towards the door. 

Donald tried to avoid the tempting gaze. They WERE the perfect size... “Okay, no. _No._ Della’s right in the other room—” 

“Come on. Donal’! You know you want to!” 

“And when have we ever lost at threesie juggling?” 

The neuron continued to jump, the knob just out of reach… 

“Well, _never,_ but—”

“BUT we gotta teach them! There’s three of them too, yes?” 

“No, there’s three of them _three,_ ” Panchito corrected. 

There was a deep scratching above as the cell tugged along a stepstool across the boat’s wooden floorboards.

José grabbed the one resting in the center of the crib and started switching it from wing to wing. “See, Donal’?” He gently lobbed it to Panchito, who scooped it out of the air using his sombrero. “ _Nem é perigoso._ ”

Well, it _was_ like rocking them. In a more interesting fashion, but hey, they were Ducks. Their lives would always be unconventional. Donald grabbed the one that sat on the left. 

The three men couldn’t hear the door to the houseboat slam shut as the neuron managed to turn the handle and head out. 

“That’s the spirit!” José excitedly bounced on the heels of his talons. “Toss, turn, toss, turn, toss, turn, twist and step!” The three Caballeros simultaneously swiveled before propelling their respective eggs into rotation. They resumed bending their knees and springing back up repeatedly as Panchito led the next cycle. 

“Ah, there he is, loosening up!” The cowboy continued pivoting, passing his part of the clutch around his waist and behind his back. “...toss, turn, twist and step!”

Donald tried snapping his fingers to the beat, but, distractedly, one of his flippers hooked behind his other ankle and he went sprawling, fumbling his egg. José squawked in horror. “Ack! EVERY TIME. We always forget that Don can barely walk and chew gum at the same time!”

“Hey!”

Panchito grabbed his lasso and whipped it through the air. The rope looped loosely around the ivory casing and significantly slowed the kid’s fall, but the bundle still landed on the floor with an audible THUNK. They scrambled to check for cracks, but Della’s booming voice made them jump and nearly drop the egg again. “What’s going on? Why are you guys on the floor?” 

“Nothing,” the three men shrieked in unison. They each laid a kiss on the shell in a discrete attempt to spot any sort of damage, and all sighed in satisfaction when their efforts proved futile.

“Everything’s all good and well.”

“ _Todo está bien.”_

“ _Tudo certinho.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I myself learned how to juggle by keeping time to the DuckTales theme song :)


End file.
